Battle Royale: Prince Community School
by coppersocks
Summary: This is gonna be a long one...
1. START 6TH ANNUAL BATTLE ROYALE

The dimly lit hall smelt heavily of mud and dust, and judging by the walls covered with ivy and mould the building hadn't been used for a long, long time. Jack Wittenberg a.k.a Boy # 1 hated the smell. It only helped cement the memories of what had happened and what they had witnessed over the past hour or so in his mind. Hell. The only Jack could describe what had happened to him and his classmates, and the worst part is, Jack knew, there is worse to come. Much worse. Looking past the soldier at the door and through the exit he could see a flood-light lightening up the immediate area outside in a bright blueish tint. The earth outside was covered in slaps of concrete that were surrounded with a chicken-wire fence and after that he could see the outline trees, lots of trees. A cool breeze blew down the corridor elevating the smell for a fraction of a second and gently rocking the forest outside. The sound of his footsteps and the creacking of trees outside seemed impossible loud to Jack, with each step closer to the door he felt is heart pounding against his ribcage and he had to fight hard against the urge to run, giving into the fear and paranoia is what they want you to do. Do that and they've won. Stopping several metres before the entrance, he set down his randomly assigned backpack and opened it up. The soldier couldn't believe what he was seeing, this seventeen year old kid looking as calm as could be fumbling around in his rucksack as if he were searching for a misplaced schoolbook.

"You! Out! Move it, come on! You can't be hanging around here." Barked the soldier.

Jack ignored the soldiers orders but he could sence the hatred that betrayed the soldier voice. It was probably the hatred of being there, of working for a government that would sellout its own country to line it's pockets, hatred of having to put this group of kids through this because of orders, and hatred for the fact that if he didn't follow these orders then he too would be killed. Jack understood that the kid at the door was probably little over a couple of years older than him and that he just wanted to get this whole thing over and done with. That didn't matter though.

"I said move it!"

He was still the enemy.

"Alright!" Stormed Jack as he got up and slung his pack over his sholder, "I'm coming"

The soldier seemed taken aback by the response, in three words the teenager had totally dominated him and now he was totally unsure of what to say, if anything.

For the first time since he had woke up in the drab, grey, smelly classroom, Jack smiled. He knew what he was going to have to do and in a bid that was as much to remind himself that he had any composure left as to show the soldier he had, he slowed his pace put his hands in his pockets and with the most convincing face that he could put on turned to the soldier and said

"Asshole"

A flash of anger swepped up through the soldier as he raised the butt of his rifle high up into the cool air, Jack simply ran off into the darkness, across the concrete and out into the wilderness.

"Have a nice life Jack!" Pvt. Parry shouted after him a smile crossing his face as he knew he had gotten on over on the boy, the guilt came no more than a second after. He's only a fucking kid and he's about to die! He dosn't need to hear that. It could be you in the position for godsakes. The smile completely wiped from his face he reached into his pockets, fumbling around about for the pack of cigarettes he carried and often resorted to. Dropping them on the floor he bent down to pick them up and began searching, arms stretched out on the floor.

"Oh, fuck" were the last to words from Pvt. Luke Parry's mouth as his hand groped the grenade that Jack had left behind.

Running now, Jack knew they would be looking for him.

_Two years ago hadn't someone killed a soldier, and in that famous American one, didn't they take over a boat? Think! Did they kill him? Did they let him continue the game! No, no, they must have let him go; the government banned anyone from killing the students except other students. Yea, that's right. They wouldn't kill someone off... would they? Maybe I didn't kill him, maybe he saw it and ran? Shit, shit, shit, shit... Think! Should be alright... they don't kill students off anymore.. it's deemed unfair to the people who bet on.._

BEEP

The colour drained from Jacks face. That noise struck a chord with all teenagers these days. Sheer panic enveloped him and he dropped to his knees. He couldn't muster words and for a second just remained their, silent.

BEEP

Palms suddenly very sweaty, Jack reached both hands towards his neck only to feel the cold, unsympathetic touch of flesh on steel. No! No, no, no please! Oh God! Dropping his hands to his sides, he grasped at the ground and he began sobbing.

BEEP

Everything he saw was now a blur: the trees, ground, sky, his own legs were nothing to him now. All that was real to Jack Wittenberg now was the smooth, sleek, shiny, piece of metal around his neck………..and that noise:

BEEP

_Think! Think! THINK! If I try to pull it off it will blow, what, what can I do?_

His crying intensified. His tears prevented him from seeing altogether. A seventeen year old boy shouldn't have to go through this. For a second the thought of begging crossed his mind, pleading with them not to kill him, though he knew all attempts would be futile. He sobbed into his hands. Then a moment of clarity hit him.

Mustering all of the strength that he had, Jack stood up for what he knew was to be his last time.

BEEP

Looking unflinchingly toward the nearest camera he removed one pin after the other. He regained his composure and stopped the weeping, and for a second all Jack could hear was the sound of the breeze once again blowing in the trees and the low buzz of the camera. The fucking camera, he could feel it's dead, indifferent stare coldly buring into him, following whatever he did and recording it for all to see. He closed his eyes and felt the cool air against his face and through his hair. Taking a deep breath he once again opened his eyes and looked towards the unflinching gaze of the camera.

"Fuck y-"

BEEP

Simultaneously the first grenade and Jacks collar exploded, hurling what remained of his body and the second grenade into the air, a split second later the second explosive triggered, shattering the bark of a nearby tree and destroying the camera that was fixed to it.

**

* * *

**

**ZERO HOUR- Game Start 45 Contestants Remaining **

Rachael Harding a.k.a Girl # 1 stepped out of the building two hours later than advertised. A small amount of renovation was needed at the exit after Jack's present. She surveyed the area as quick as she could as she knew the next contestant would be out within two minutes. What she didn't know was who the next contestant was and despite being one of the most popular girls in class, it was not something she wished to find out the hard way. Taking off in full stride, she headed straight into the foliage; she knew what she must do.

Blubbering, confused and downright scared. Alfie Hayes a.k.a boy # 2 officially entered the game. Alfie wasn't stupid, he knew his weight wouldn't do him any favours, he knew that with his speed, having a two inch pocket knife as a weapon would not do him any favours. Noting the cameras he tried holding back the tears but he had no resistance left, Alfie Hayes knew he was going to die within the next 3 days.

Helen Campbell knew that having a plan helped in this game. The whole class had watched previous Battle Royale's (well not everyone, many students throughout he world had in fact boycotted the programmes in protest, some even marched on government buildings with their televisions and set them on fire) on T.V and everyone knows, you don't win it by dumb-luck, no, you need a strategy, a plan. And a plan was something Helen didn't have. But she knew who would. Scanning the line of trees for danger and not finding any, Helen made her way to a vantage point and waited.

Having seen his sister leave moments before, Ed Campbell a.k.a Boy # 3 ran for the open doored exit. If it hadn't been for the powerful floodlight then the place would have been pitch black and having bad eyesight didn't help Ed either.

"Helen! Helen, it's me! Eddy!"

Hearing a rustle come from behind the line of trees to his right, Ed tried to squeeze his eyes into focus.

"Jesus Ed, I thought I'd never see you again"

"Shhh!" Putting his fingers to his lips. "Listen, we have to be quiet, who the fuck knows how people are gonna play this game, we'll wait around for Dean, but once he's out we'll have to move."

Whilst saying this he noticed that she had a quizzical look on her face and wandered is she had heard what he said.

"Sure" she replied, and they hurriedly moved back into the trees.

Being fit meant a lot in this game and Patricia Penn a.k.a Girl # 3 was that. Having played sports all her life from swimming to hockey, Patricia played almost any game and most likely won. But she was a team player and she knew Battle Royale was best played as a team- for now at least. She took off in the first direction to catch her eye at great speed.

Matthew O'Brien felt heavy hearted, having always placed a firm belief in humanity he now found himself feeling very at odds with what he knew was about to be done and about what to do. He toyed with the options and choices he now had to make about his life as he wandered in a southerly direction, to where he heard his friends discussing where to meet. He had never believed in the BR Act and refused to watch on TV as people made millions off of innocents slaughtering innocents. With that in mind he noticed the cameras, red dots in the dark, everywhere, watching everything from every conceivable angle. Struggling to hold back the tears at the thought of his family watching, dropped his bag, fell to the floor and wept.

Caitlin Ellison a.k.a Girl # 4 found herself strangely calm as she stepped out into the artificially lit up night. She slowed her breathing, pushed her glasses up her nose and set about looking for a friend.

For about as long as he could remember Richard Heaney a.k.a Boy # 5 had felt like and been an outcast in class, if a self-imposed one at that. He sat by himself whenever possible and made it a point not to let others words have an impact on him, critic or acclaim. He was the smartest boy in class and he knew it. He refused to see the point in being "sociable", he had his own intellect and an incredibly wealthy and supportive family. But now Richard Heaney, though afraid to admit it to himself, wanted the one thing that had evaded him or he had evaded his entire life: a friend.

Stepping into the 3D blackness, he knew it was going to be a long night.

Jenny Woodward a.k.a Girl # 5 could only think of the last words she had said to her boyfriend before she had left the room moments before. She walked past the replacement guard that now held a significantly bigger gun than the one he replaced. Only the change in lighting snapped her out of her daydream. With her small frame she didn't feel safe near the old building. Making an assessment of her surroundings with the huge green eyes that had earned her much attention; she took the path that appeared least awkward. Never one to loose compose, she gracefully turned to her left and headed north.

Barry "Baz" Pitt a.k.a Boy # 6 searched his bag for his weapon. He had watched the game before and knew it was essential to hold something that at least looked like it could do damage. Fumbling through his bag, he grabbed a hold of what he hoped to have - a gun – and a large one at that, pulling it out of his bag, open-mouthed, Baz gazed at his Uzi.

Girl # 6 Francis Clark tried to be as stealthy as she could, she had heard unmistakably the sound of footsteps and had frozen and ducked. It's hard to hold your breath when you're out of breath. Stealth, Francis knew wasn't her strong point. Being 6 foot and 10 and a half stone was quite big for a girl and was not going to do her any favours here. She feared for her life, and rightfully so.

Peter Humphrey a.k.a Boy # 7 walked through the hall and into the night. Being 6'6 and 14 stone made him physically imposing to anyone who didn't know him. Those who did however knew that he was impossibly shy, shy to the point of being mute. Peter placed his thumbs between the strap of his bag and himself and moved forward, as ever, silently.

Zara Reusswig a.k.a Girl # 7 was not in a good place, having only lived in England for 3 months she still had a strong German accent, a limited vocabulary and even fewer friends than she had English words. Her weapon was of no use either- an electric razor.

Being as silent as she could whilst pushing her way through the dense blanket of black and dark green that surrounded her, Zara knew that she stood little chance of getting out of this alive. Despite not knowing a lot of English, she was very familiar with the Battle Royale formula and how it works. In fact, the idea came to fruition in Germany years before it came to Britain.

"Zara!" a muffled shout from her right caught her attention. "Zara, it's me, Francis, it's me, Peters here to!"

Recognising the voice, but not quite believing her luck, Zara moved in the direction of the voices.

"Vare are you?"

"Up here!"

Looking up Zara an impossible sight her two friends sat perched on a branch in a tree above her. The two of the were near giants compared to her "Come down, I can't go up, mi bag ist to heafy for me Francis"

If it hadn't been for the fact that Francis and Zara had become good friends since Zara's arrival, Francis probably wouldn't have understood Zara, infact Francis was probably the only person in class to understand Zara through her highbred mix of deutch and English, all with the absolute heaviest of accents.

"Coming, just be quiet!" whispered Francis, placing her index finger on her lips.

After jumping down, Peter turned to help Francis out of the tree. Waving his hand away, Francis jumped down. Looking at her two companions, one larger and one a lot smaller than her, she had already noted that none of them were really fit to lead.

"OK" she started, looking toward Zara, then back to Peter, who she thought had the look of a dog waiting for the ball o be thrown.

"OK, I guess we keep moving, hopefully Daniel will be out soon and I'm sure he'll make contact with us somehow.

She knew that what they wanted was not words of reassurance, not a safe place to hide and wait; what they wanted was their leader back, someone they knew that without him they would be useless. But with his guidance, they could figure away out of this horrible situation. They all knew what they have to do if they didn't what might happen, no one dared say it, they knew where the conversation by lead, and the thought of loss was too much to bear.

* * *

Having witnessed many of his friends stroll out calmly; a look of almost composure on their face, hell, boy # 10 Bernard Turner even punched a guard in the face. William Cople a.k.a boy # 12 was determined to show his calm. Instead he ran, only slowing down as he ran through the door, glancing at the blood stains on the floor and wall. 

Shivering despite the oppressing humidity he jogged across the concrete and into the forest. Once in the dark, safety became paramount. Slow down and be quiet! Hesitating briefly before plunging into the forest something caught his eye, the unmistakable glow of a cigarette. Knowing who had come out before him and knowing there was only a certain amount of people with such a disregard for their own safety, William made an educated guess. Walking straight towards the orange glow, unflinchingly he spoke out to the mysterious stranger.

"Hey Noel"

Taking in a drag and holding it for a while, as casual as could be, he replied.

"So what brings a good looking guy like you to a place like this?"

Eyes more educated to the dark now, William could see Noel almost clearly, leaning with his back to a tree with one leg bent balancing him against it.

Noel Anderson a.k.a boy # 11 was a complete enigma in class. Most tried to ignore him, but nearly everyone respected him. He could make anyone look like an idiot in 10 seconds flat, he had the fastest tongue in school and even though not physically impressive, he was known not to be messed with. He had dyed black hair and wore eye-liner nearly all of the time; these features only made him look paler than what he already was. He had piercings in his ears and lip and one between bottom lip and chin. He nearly always wore dark colours, mostly black. He was not considered gothic however, he spoke with a near camp voice but in way that made him sound like the singer off of Placebo, a comparison he often referred to himself. Few boys spoke to him at school and Noel preferred it that way, finding that girl's topic of conversation to be more interesting. Showing off masculinity and muscle was of no interest to him, he hated what he called "macho bullshit". Boys, he found, were rather predictable.

Many, though at school speculated that Noel was gay and he told a select few, the truth being that he was bi-sexual and probably got more girls than most "straighter cut" guys in class. Noel revelled in that fact.

"Fuck Noel, you _tryin_ to get yourself killed? Stop tryin to look so fucking individualist and so fuckin _smart,_ it's me you fucker, not Dean or Derek so drop the act." The words stung Noel slightly but instead of letting it show he took another slow drag of his cigarette.

"Fag?" He said exhaling heavily, letting the smoke surround his face.

Pausing for a second, William looked down and saw Noels outstretched arm holding a full pack of Benson and Hedges.

"Fuck you, I'm moving you can come with me or stay here and get killed." He carried on walking.

Despite his aggressiveness, William was one of the only boys in the class who Noel allowed to talk to him like that. A mutual respect had grown out of having cigarettes behind the school at lunch and between classes. William was a bit of an enigma in himself, at only 5 foot 8, and being fairly skinny, William was friends with a crowd that Noel thought seemed a strange choice for a boy of his nature; he was not typical of the people who tend to hang around with the football team. Noel had noticed a rise in his popularity over the past year or so but had thought it a stupid thing to mention during their 5 minute a day conversations. The two of them had a deeper understanding of each other than they let on: Both once near social outcasts, now both much more confident than they ever were before, they owed each other more than they ever said, as that 5 minutes of acceptance a day, they knew, was central to the people they became.

Noel followed through the trees as they both knew he would, although slightly slower out of protest. Giving the current situation it is much better to be with someone rather than noone. Everybody knew that and he could think of worse people than William be with.

William felt exactly the same, however he needed to find his friends. If he could manage to get to the football team then he stood a much better chance. He liked Noel, he made laugh and he could cut you down like it was noones business but in a situation like this those talents arn't gonna get you very far. Looking back at Noel he knew that physically they wouldn't stand a chance against some of the bigger people in class, flight would certainly be the best option if the situation. Anxiety crepped over him and a familiar pang overtook his thoughts.

"I'll have that cigarette now"

Secretly happy it was a full box Noel had presented. He only had a few left.

* * *

Boy # 16 Stuart Keating was aware of the dangers that awaited him. Stuart was himself very clever and a whiz with anything computer associated. His downfall came however, on his physicality; chubby, ginger, glasses: class readings of Lord of the Flies were hell for him; the comparisons were both inevitable and accurate. Despite being self-aware, or being forced to be self-aware by the class clowns, etc, Stuart made the best of what he had to offer and became good friends with what many considered to be the "popular group" by making out fake IDs for them on his computer, thus creating his own little niche within the group. Without them though, Stuart felt lost, alone and pathetic. He knew that he would be killed if he didn't find someone friendly…………..fast. 

Being in some kind of clique always helps in school. Sarah Prince a.k.a Girl # 16 knew this, she particularly like everyone in the group but she liked the advantages it gave. Of course being good looking always helped as well- it also meant getting away with saying the stupidest things. She may not have been the most book smart girl in the world but she knew how to make the most out of her obvious physical advantages, she left the thinking and academics to girls such as Caitlin Ellison and Heather Cross a.k.a Girl # 11. Who cares about that sort of thing anyway?

Steven Linn a.k.a Boy # 17 had the opportunity to do something he had wanted to do for a long time, ok, maybe not to this extremity, but it was definitely an opportunity to get some frustrations out.

Prince Community School used to have an almost famous football team, the young group of boys that started the school at the age of 12 started off by winning the under 12's regional championship, then the under 14's regional and national, then again for the under 16's. Boys like Peter Harvey- the fast paced right winger, Bernard Turner-the commanding central midfielder, James Kilcannon in goals and on the on-the-pitch transformation of Matthew O'Brien from a shy, good looking, polite young man to a snarling, whiney and beautifully skilful striker earned him the captain's role in the best team in the country. Prince Community School however, had not won anything in the past year. Players deteriorated, Bernard put on more weight than he should have, Peter and Matthew lost their edge in fitness. No one could put their finger on the problem. Declan, could however. The so-called best friend of Bernard and Peter, William Cople, the influence of funny man Michael Doherty, people who smoke and who drink and who fucking party till all hour with no regard for their own bodies never mind that of the players. This made Declan sick. To him the football team should be a clique unto itself without interference from assholes who don't belong. If they wanted, they could rule the school as well as the football pitch…..If only they wanted. Instead they had turned their back on their once best friend, their pride and their football team and opted for the drugs, the drink the lifestyle and popularity that was handed to them ONLY BECAUSE of their sucess. He hated them, he hated them and everything they now stood for, but he could change it: get rid of the cancer; cure the patient. This was an opportunity to good to miss, with the right tools he could remove the cancer and as luck would have it, Steven did have the right tools, pulling out his sawn-off shotgun Steven's heart pumped a fresh wave of adrenaline through his body.

Boy do I have the right tools.

History dictates that loners don't usually go very far in a Battle Royale, and if they do they are either psychotic or very smart or both. Andrew Foster a.k.a. Boy # 18 was neither, having been to shy to make friends through socialising, not physically able enough to do it through sport and not smart enough to realise there _are_ other means, Andrew Foster, the boy they called "Mousey" was at a distinct disadvantage.

"Where? I can't hear you…. No, the lines bad…. The south? There's a building to the south? OK, I'll meet you there then…Oh and tell Noel to meet us there as well, my credits gone after this call…………………..no, I trust him…………………yea, bye."

Hanging up the phone Helena Brown a.k.a Girl # 18 headed in the direction she believed to be southward. The dark made her wish she had worn her contacts. Easing through the dense undergrowth scratches and cuts began showing themselves on her leg. Frustration got the better of her.

"Fuck this, Fuck THIS!"

Helena was rarely one to loose her temper; on the contrary she was usually the one to keep her cool when her friends lost theirs. But now there was no one to calm down, no one to get to relax. She was victim to her own emotions having no need to tame them.

Helena was a fairly good looking girl with more of an aura of beauty than of a beautiful look. She choose clothing that seemed a bit more ambiguous and spontaneous than anyone else. If Helena saw something whilst shopping that she knew people would look twice at, she would buy it. Not to say she was not fashion conscious, she knew what suited her and anything suited her, from suit jackets to netted sleeves.

Pushing further through she found herself in a small clearing, dimly lit by the moon. When she was satisfied that she was alone, she pulled a pack of Marlboro Lights out of her breast pocket of the check shirt she was wearing.

"...God" whilst exhaling.

For the first time the thought crossed her mind of her weapon. Discreetly putting the cigarette out against a tree, she unzipped the came-green bag and began searching. Feeling something that was neither food or her map or compass she pulled. Her crowbar came out with surprising ease.

Leaning back against the tree, the gravity of the situation hit home for the first time…..hard. A crowbar meant for only one thing, to kill, to kill friends and classmates indiscriminately.

I'll never do it. I won't play this fucking perverted game,

The thoughts activated what was a long time in coming, tears, and lots of them.

At 3.22AM, the last person to step out of the exit door was Daniel Guilding a.k.a Boy # 23. Disliked by many and adored by a handful. He had become a firm leader over several individuals that didn't seem to fit into any other social clique, self titled "the misfits". What many disliked about him was that he was not so much a friend as a dictator and often would physically hurt one of his "friends" if they didn't cooperate with him, boy or girl.

Leaving the exit he knew he would have to find his "disciples" before anyone else found him, Leaving the exit, he felt unlike he had ever felt in school. He felt powerless.

At 3.22AM, the doors shut to the bunker for the last time. The 6th annual Battle Royale to be held for British broadcast began. Over 350 million viewers were to tune in worldwide, betting was to become an all time high for a televised event, merchandise sales were about to go through the roof like they did at the same time every year. And class 2 of senior year at Prince Community School were about to have their lives altered indefinitely.


	2. Male Roster

This is the stats sheet made available to the public by YOUbet(c) Bookmakers on eve of the show.

**Male Roster For 6th Annual Battle Royale**

Please note that odds are made on the basis of stat analysis of each contestant, interviews with contestant's peers and teachers on personality type and hypothetical reaction to given situation. Randomly Assigned Weapons are also taken into account.

Odds are consistent nationwide and are government confirmed. Please note odds are subject to change throughout game time. Good luck!

**Boy #1**

**Name: **Jack Peale

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 11

**Weight: **11 Stone

**R.A.W: **3x HE Flechette APERS, L88A2 (Hand Grenade)

**Odds: **18/1

**Boy #2**

**Name: **Alfie Hayes

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 9

**Weight: **14 Stone

**R.A.W: **2" Switch Blade

**Odds: **100/1

**Boy #3**

**Name : **Ed Campbell

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 11

**Weight: **11 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **IMI Desert Eagle .50 Cal Handgun

**Odds: **18/1

**Boy #4**

**Name: **Matthew O'Brien

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 9

**Weight: **10 Stone

**R.A.W: **Slingshot

**Odds: **30/1

**Boy #5**

**Name: **Barry Pitt

**Age: **18

**Height: **6' 3

**Weight: **15 Stone

**R.A.W: **IMI UZI 9mm

**Odds: **18/1

**Boy #6**

**Name: **Peter Homfrey

**Age: **17

**Height: **6' 1

**Weight: **11 Stone

**R.A.W: **Samurai Sword

**Odds: **16/1

**Boy #7**

**Name: **Johnny Puzo

**Age: **18

**Height: **5'11

**Weight: **11 Stone

**R.A.W: **Mace

**Odds: **24/1

**Boy #8**

**Name: **Derek Downey

**Age: **17

**Height: **6'

**Weight: **12 Stone

**R.A.W: **Night Vision Goggles

**Odds: **30/1

**Boy #9**

**Name: **Bernard Hornby

**Age: **18

**Height: **5'11

**Weight: **12 1/2 Stone

**R.A.W: **Hockey Stick

**Odds: **30/1

**Boy #10**

**Name: **Noel Anderson

**Age:** 17

**Height: **5'10

**Weight: **11 Stone

**R.A.W: **Dart Gun (12x Thiopental Darts)

**Odds: **40/1

**Boy #11**

**Name: **Richard Heaney

**Age: **18

**Height: **5'8

**Weight: **11 Stone

**R.A.W: **Holy Bible

**Odds: **40/1

**Boy #12**

**Name: **Dean Campbell

**Age: **17

**Height: **5'11

**Weight: **11 1/2 Stone

**R.A.W: **3x ANM Thermite Grenades

**Odds: **18/1

**Boy #13**

**Name: **Micheal Doherty

**Age: **18

**Height: **5' 10

**Weight: **11 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **44 Colt Anaconda

**Odds: **22/1

**Boy #14**

**Name: **Paul Carr

**Age: **18

**Height: **5' 9

**Weight: **10 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: ** Walther PPK Handgun

**Odds: **33/1

**Boy #15**

**Name: **Paddy Keating

**Age: **18

**Height: **5' 9

**Weight: **14 Stone

**R.A.W: **2x Sony 2way Radios.

**Odds: **60/1

**Boy #16**

**Name: **Sunil Kapoor

**Age: **17

**Height: **6'2

**Weight: **14 Stone

**R.A.W: **World War II style gasmask.

**Odds: **25/1

**Boy #17**

**Name: **Tom Hughes

**Age: **18

**Height: **6' 2

**Weight: **11 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **Hand Cuffs

**Odds: **30/1

**Boy # 18**

**Name: **Adam Cople

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 7

**Weight: **9 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **Cricket Bat

**Odds: **50/1

**Boy #19**

**Name: **Sammy Greene

**Age: **18

**Height: **6' 3

**Weight: **12 1/2 Stone

**R.A.W: **Fountain Pen

**Odds: **25/1

**Boy #20**

**Name: **Daniel Guilding

**Age: **17

**Height: **5'11

**Weight: **11 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **Duct Tape

**Odds: **40/1

**Boy #21**

**Name: **Jimmy Brookes

**Age: **17

**Height: **6'

**Weight: **12 stone

**R.A.W: **3x Cyanide Capsule

**Odds: **33/1

**Boy # 22**

**Name: **Andrew Foster

**Age: **16

**Height: **5'8

**Weight: **10 Stone

**R.A.W: **Hammer

**Odds: **50/1

**Boy #23**

**Name: **Samir Pascale

**Age: **18

**Height: **5'11

**Weight: **11 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **Rope (6')

**Odds: **40/1

**Boy # 24**

**Name: **Paulie Wright

**Age: **Xbox 360 Console

**Height: **6'3

**Weight: **16 Stone

**R.A.W: **Xbox 360 Console

**Odds: **40/1


	3. Female Roster

The following is the stats sheet made available to the public by YOUbet(c) Bookmakers on eve of the show.

**Female Roster For 6th Annual Battle Royale**

Please note that odds are made on the basis of stat analysis of each contestant, interviews with contestants peers and teachers on personality type and hyperthetical reaction to given situation. Randomly Assigned Weapons are also taken into account.

Odds are consistant nationwide and are government confirmed. Please note odds are subject to change throughout game time. Goodluck!

**Girl #1**

**Name: **Racheal Harding

**Age: **18

**Height: **5'5

**Weight: **8 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **.45 Cal Colt Single Action Army Revolver

**Odds: **28/1

**Girl #2**

**Name: **Helen Campbell

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 8

**Weight: **9 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **Black Balaclava

**Odds: **40/1

**Girl #3**

**Name: **Patricia Penn

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 7

**Weight: **8 Stone

**R.A.W: **3x M8 Smoke Grenades

**Odds: **30/1

**Girl #4**

**Name: **Caitlin Ellison

**Age: **17

**Height: **5'7

**Weight: **8 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **Sony Digital Video Recorder

**Odds: **60/1

**Girl #5**

**Name: **Jenny Woodward

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 8

**Weight: **9 Stone

**R.A.W: **Thomas A Smiths Electronic Rifle (Taser)

**Odds: **40/1

**Girl #6**

**Name: **Francis Clark

**Age: **18

**Height: **6' 2

**Weight: **12 Stone

**R.A.W: **Machete

**Odds: **20/1

**Girl #7**

**Name: **Zara Reusswig

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 4

**Weight: **9 Stone

**R.A.W: **Butchers Knife

**Odds: **50/1

**Girl #8**

**Name: **Nina Midgly

**Age: **18

**Height: **5'6

**Weight: **9 Stone

**R.A.W: **Binoculars

**Odds: **50/1

**Girl #9**

**Name: **Alex Carmack

**Age: **17

**Height: **5'5

**Weight: **9 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **Oven Cleaner

**Odds: **40/1

**Girl #10**

**Name: **Jill Willis

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 5

**Weight: **10 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **Can of Aerosol with lighter taped to it. Effective flamethrower.

**Odds: **30/1

**Girl #11**

**Name: **Heather Cross

**Age: **17

**Height: **5'

**Weight: **7 Stone

**R.A.W: **Crossbow

**Odds: **70/1

**Girl #12**

**Name: **Karen Rouse

**Age: **18

**Height: **5'6

**Weight: **9 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **3x Lucky Syringes

**Odds: **28/1

**Girl #13**

**Name: **Deidre Moodie

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 7

**Weight: **10 Stone

**R.A.W: **6x Throwng Star/ Thowing Star Technique Guide

**Odds: **40/1

**Girl #14**

**Name: **Tara Krotoski

**Age: **17

**Height: **5'7

**Weight: **10 Stone

**R.A.W: **M9 Handgun

**Odds: **25/1

**Girl #15**

**Name: **Margaret Guest

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 10

**Weight: **10 ½ Stone

**R.A.W: **G.P.S System (With uploaded map of island)

**Odds: **22/1

**Girl #16**

**Name: **Sarah Prince

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 9

**Weight: **10 Stone

**R.A.W: **Nun chucks

**Odds: **50/1

**Girl #17**

**Name: **Sinead Edwards

**Age: **18

**Height: **5' 4

**Weight: **9 Stone

**R.A.W: **Can Opener

**Odds: **60/1

**Girl #18**

**Name: **Helena Brown

**Age: **18

**Height: **5'7

**Weight: **10 Stone

**R.A.W: **Crow Bar

**Odds: **45/1

**Girl #19**

**Name: **Debra Hutchinson

**Age: **17

**Height: **5'6

**Weight: **10 Stone

**R.A.W: **Baretta Px4 Storm Handgun

**Odds: **50/1

**Girl #20**

**Name: **Jayne Pierce

**Age: **17

**Height: **5'5

**Weight: **9 Stone

**R.A.W: **Electronic Hair Razor

**Odds: **40/1

**Girl #21**

**Name: **Amanda Collins

**Age: **18

**Height: **5'5

**Weight: **11 Stone

**R.A.W: **Tooth Brush

**Odds: **80/1

**Girl # 22**

**Name: **Abigail Gowans

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 10

**Weight: **11 Stone

**R.A.W: **Scalpel

**Odds: **40/1

**Girl #23**

**Name: **Jackie Trendall

**Age: **17

**Height: **5' 5

**Weight: **10 Stone

**R.A.W: **Super Fast!(c) Super Glue

**Odds: **60/1

**Girl#24**

**Name: **Sussie Hill

**Age: **18

**Height:** 5'9

**Weight: **8 Stone

**R.A.W: **Pump Action Remington 870 Shotgun (Sawn Off)

**Odds: **30/1


	4. Hour 1 45 Students Remaining

**Hour 1**

**45 Contestants remaining**

Out of the 45 students remaining in Battle Royale, Derek Downey a.k.a Boy # 9 was in the vast minority of those students who didn't mind being there. That was not to say that Derek had no regard for his life or future. No, Derek was the opposite; he had plans for his future- big plans.

Growing up, Derek was bought up in a home on a street that seemed to him to be the centre of attention for the entire world. Quite often as a young boy he would watch the TV with his parents and the familiar road where he played football on with his friends and neighbours would be shown, some arrest having been made, a picture of a neighbour in the corner of the screen. Sometimes Derek would be able to watch through his veiled window at women crying as their husbands, or boyfriends or sometimes even sons got dragged away by the police, his farther already outside, arguing with them; shouting abuse and having his say. If he hadn't been arrested already for obstructing justice or disturbing the peace then he would come back inside the house; cursing the police, cursing the government, cursing his wife. Derek simply looked on as the crying women simply sat on the curb, head in hands, sobbing. Eventually they would pick themselves up, move back inside the house and close the curtains- Derek hated the police.

By the age of 10, Derek's farther was taking him to football matches on a weekly basis, every week someone seemed to pick a fight with his dad. He would watch on as his farther would defend himself and his kid against the attackers. Every time they would succeed, safe again for another week. After the match and the following brawl, his dad would take him to the local pub at the end of their road. It was here that Derek felt most at home. Every face was a friendly one. Derek would inevitably be called from table to table by the husky voiced, smoking men that his farther got on so well with. At each table he would listen intently to the stories these men told, all the while, his farther watched on with approval, drinking more. The stories fascinated Derek and he would keep any questions he had stored in his head for the end. They educated him on what was going wrong with the country: the blacks, the Muslims, the Jews. Everyone seemed to talk with hate of this faceless enemy that was ready to pounce on the good, hard working nobility when they least expected it. Offence, Derek learned, was the best form of offence.

After the pub, Derek would walk home with his farther. He would often notice a change in him at this time, it happened most nights. As they walked back his dad would tell him how much he loved him, his brother and his mother. After growing his confidence around his dad, he mustered up the courage to ask why his brother never joined them at the matches:

"He _thinks_ he has better things to do" He answered with a look of disgust Derek had never seen before.

"Listen Derek" His farther staggered and nearly fell. "Listen, don't pay any attention what your brother says, he's leaving soon and the only reason he's here is because your mother keeps him here. Listen, your mother and brother don't _understand _things like you and me, your mother…." He sighed. "Well, your mother, she doesn't know what she's talking about, she doesn't see what's happening in this country like we do, and your brother thinks he's to smart to take part in our community. He's happy to lock himself away, with his computer. He wouldn't even come out if some _immigrant_broke into the house and tried to hurt you and your mother!"

Derek gulped and nodded. He was silent the rest of the way home, listening to his farther. On getting to the house Derek's dad turned to him and knelt down. Face to face now, his farther spoke.

"When I was your age, my farther was already dead. You should appreciate what I provide for you, as should your mother" Derek could smell the familiar smell on his fathers breath.

"Don't ever forget what's important; it's our duty to protect this country, this street, this house!" His face softened, "now go to bed and………….. And don't wake your brother."

With that, Derek turned and went as quietly as he could up the stairs; he turned to see his farther collapse on to the couch, only to get back up again and shuffle into the kitchen. Derek heard him pour another drink.

Upon arriving in his room he didn't turn the light on and got changed in the dark, quiet as not to wake his brother. Climbing into the bottom bunk, his brother spoke to him from above.

"He's not what he says he is, he's a coward who drinks and fights. Don't become like him Derek; you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

"You'll never understand Ben, Dad loves us!" His protests sounded forced.

"God, your only ten, don't fall into this trap so young, you'll never get out. Go to football or whatever but don't think that's all there is! He's nothing more than an alcoholic and he hurts mum, surely you've heard it!"

"He loves us, I'm going to sleep and I'm not listening anymore"

Derek turned over and closed his eyes. The words had hit him like a punch in the face. _He hurts mum._

It was only after that night did Derek begin to notice the bruises on his mothers arms as anything other than house hold accidents, it was only now that he noticed the days that she wouldn't come out her room claiming she was sick, it was only now that Derek stopped shutting out the muffled cries coming out from the other side of his bedroom wall. Derek began to hate his farther.

A few weeks after the conversation with his brother, Derek' farther came home with a smile on his face. Drunk.

"We did it! We actually did it!" He walked over and wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her affectionately on the cheek. She flinched. "We got rid of those fuckers from parliament. We finally can take some action and have some _fucking _say on what goes on in this country!"

Derek had never seen his father so happy at home and felt it a moment to celebrate, but looking at his mother he knew otherwise. At that moment he felt both anger and fear for his mother. _Why won't she be happy? We can be a normal family, just let it happen!_ A movement in the corner of his eye dragged his gaze away from his mother.

He heard her speak.

"Where are you going Ben?" His brother was practically running upstairs as if he had to be somewhere in a hurry.

"Out mum, I'm going out."

"Please Ben don't!" He heard his mother say. Derek felt as though he was missing something.

"I'm not staying in this house with a drunk who celebrates when a bunch fascist pigs takes over this country. He's so blind he doesn't…."

"I will not be spoken to in my own house like that!" His farther bellowed. "You ungrateful little prick!"

"That's fine! I'm leaving!" His brother turned and ran up the steps.

Derek's father let out a smile as if he had won a long running, hard fought battle. Derek looked to his mother in hope that she could make the situation better. She only cried. He hated her for being so weak. He never saw his brother again.

By the age of sixteen Derek had pieced together what had happened that night. The British National Party had through both legal and illegal measures taken government with massive right-wing and new up-and-coming militant extremist groups. Company heads and officials with money to be made from privatisation and tax-cuts and much of the working class seduced with promises of protection and increased military spending, supported the drastic change.

Derek now understood why his farther had been so happy that night. His farther was the kind of man the new government glorified; hardworking, white, men who had been run out of work through no fault of their own they claimed. It was the fault of high tax rates, demanding unions and especially illegal immigrants. The BNP had an unspoken motto, though it was clear and often used by their supporters: "The back bone of Britain paralysed by a foreign cancer." They promised a fix, a cure when they came to power, and they rode the new tide of British nationalism straight to the doors of parliament. Hopes were high and there were promises to be kept.

Derek was a quick learner and had become increasingly independent from his family after his brother left. His enthusiasm for learning and acquiring new skills was matched only by his developing muscles: He was no longer the shrimpy, impossibly skinny Downey boy. No, Derek now stood at a lean 6 foot, not especially tall but he had filled out significantly, lifting weights and going to the gym every day had paid off well, as well has serving as time away from the house. He was thought to run in gangs by his class mates, and with a shaven head and plenty of scars along his knuckles and arms, he looked the part. Despite being true, they were all rumours however, and what Derek did in his own time and what he did whilst at school stood in start contrast and rendered the rumours nearly inconceivable. Reading books and on the net is what Derek spent most his school life doing. Reading and making plans.

From when he was a young boy, wandering from table to table in a smoky local, Derek had taken an interest in politics. And with the rise of the BNP when he was ten, Derek grew up with a party in power that he could get behind. By the time he was 16 he had a full understanding of the party's policies and ideologies, or lack of. What he realised at the earliest possible age at which he could grasp such a concept was that the BNP were as ineffective and inefficient as any party before them. Rash decisions were made and rushed laws were past in a bid to keep their sponsors happy. The BR Act was a prime example. Under mounting pressure from many sides, including foreign nations, TV companies and various powerful bookmaker companies, the BNP did what they had grown used to doing: fold.

Plans were drawn up quickly and quietly, other countries were consulted as were reality TV show executives about which Battle Royale formula would work best for British audiences. The simplest was decided to be the best: Take a class, give them weapons, film it. As simple as it was deadly.

Derek had read all about this, even consulted hackers on the net who had access to government files, all containing and about who was really running the country, where the money was going, where the power was being passed on. Despite agreeing with the fundamental nationalist/ right-wing ideologies that were the basis and selling point of the BNP, Derek soon came to realise that they stank of corruption, a corruption that he had dreams of capitalising on, but without the means to do it. No means what-so-ever, until now of course.

Whilst in that dank induction room, instead of starring wide eyed at the instruction video and listening in terror to the over-the-top, be dramatic for the cameras, professional looking soldier in expensive looking military uniform with plenty of medals and badges stuck above his left breast pocket, Derek was in his own little world. In fact, Derek was so far away emotionally from his classmates anyone who knew his thoughts would be forgiven for thinking that he was insane.

_Imagine, a hard-working boy from a hard-working working class background, never been in trouble with the police (granted through dumb-luck rather than lack of criminal activity) striving to get out of a run down area, a broken home. Forced to face a terror no one should endure, a terror bought his own corrupt government; innocents killing innocents, classmates killing classmates, friends killing friends, all in the name of a corrupt government; in the name of money. Imagine this boy surviving, becoming a national hero, becoming a celebrity, someone with a voice, someone who would have the support and conviction to take out the money men who sat on top of the money piles, to make the country right again. Imagine Derek Downey, Battle Royale survivor, British Prime Minister. _

While his classmates watched in terror and prepared for the horror they were about to go through, Derek had just thought up his campaign pitch.

Since getting out, loosing hadn't crossed his mind; it wasn't in his nature. _God, am I gonna take this country by storm!_ He prided himself on his intelligence and the fact that he had inherited the good looks of his mother.

_Hold on Derek!_ He snapped out of his daydream. _You're getting ahead of yourself. _Adjusting his Night Vision goggles, he continued stalking his pray.

* * *

"Well I haven't heard any shots, maybe we can actually, you know, do something about the situation" After half an hour of wandering around by himself, Bernard Turner a.k.a Boy # 10 had found the one person he would have wanted to bump into, Peter Harvey a.k.a Boy # 19. 

Peter was one of the most popular boys in school; he was very fit through sport, had a kind of boyish, innocent looking face with light blue eyes and cropped blonde hair on top. As a typical Leo, he had developed good leadership skills on and off the pitch. Even though he wasn't captain he would often be the loudest player on the on the field encouraging his own team, downright getting in the face of his opponents. He was the kind of player you loved having on your team and hated playing against; good and playing his game, and good at putting you off yours.

Being the good looking, outspoken, confident, popular leader of the best known team in the area did have its downfalls though, however small. He often found that people judged him as being cocky and narcissistic before they had even met him, as someone who always got what he wanted, and if he didn't would kick up a fuss about it. Much effort was spent to show that he was more than a dumb pretty boy. By forcing himself to consider others and their opinions a number of things changed in his life; he became friends with people outside of the team, for the first time he began to run in circles that he previously would have stereotyped or categorised, and because he stopped doing this, so did the team.

"Don't be stupid, it's only a matter of time"

Bernard knew Peter was right but his heart kept arguing. "But these are our _friends _we're talking about! Not a group of psychopathic strangers!"

Peter let out a sigh, feeling the anger rising in him, he talked as calmly and as measured as he could, trying not to let it show. "Do you _really_ think that I don't know that? Do you really think that it's easy for me to accept? Bernard, in the past, the other Battle Royales were made up of schools just like ours."

The fatality in his voice got to Bernard and he knew that he was going to be the one that would have to keep hopes up for the next three days, or however long they lived. The thing was, he really didn't feel up to it. Minutes past as they crept along without word or incident, sticking close to each other as if each other were the only thing left to lose. Bernard knew what his friend was feeling and felt for him and toyed with the best way to bring it up, the best way to lift the mood, though he knew it was no good.

"Pete, if we get a group together then maybe we can, you know……" he started.

"Cut it out! No one has ever made it of one of these islands; I just want to find Jenny. After that……"

His voice trailed off there was no need to finish the sentence. They both wished to change the subject but couldn't think of something, the thought of death kept attracting their attention. It took several minutes till Bernard was able to think of anything;

"Hey, I forgot to ask, what's your weapon?"

"Fuck, I forgot to check, hold on"

Slinging his bag from his shoulder began searching. Grazing his hand across it and drawing blood, he pulled his weapon out with his back to Bernard.

"What is it?"

"Beats your hockey stick any day"

Turning round, Peter displayed his fire axe in all its glory, the tip shimmering in the moonlight.

"Nice"

"Not bad is it?" They started walking once more with newly found confidence in their discovery in Peters bag. Though they knew the hoplessness of the situation, they atleast knew they could prolong the inevitable for as long as possible. They didn't plan on playing the game, oh no. But at least they could defend themselves. Peter lean and athletic, Bernard broad and strong. They made a good team, they always had, hell they were the backbone of the team, and few would say they weren't the backbone of the class and even fewer didn't like them. They knew they had a good chance of going far in this as long as they stood together and the new weopon just added to their confindence.

"So what do we do? Bernard asked "Over the next three days?"

"I want to find Jenny, if I don't manage that…………………………… I don't know what I'll do."

"Do you want her to win?" The question had been on Bernard's mind since they met.

It took Peter several moments to answer, knowing what the answer would mean for both of their lives.

"If anyone hurts her, I swear, I'll fucking kill them."

Bernard wasn't surprised by this response, given the situation. His friend probably would kill someone who even attempted to hurt his girlfriend. The only problem was that the likelihood of someone hurting her was probably increasing each passing second. Bernard knew it, Peter refused to acknowledge it.

"What if it comes down to you and her?"

_Shit Bernard, where did all these hard questions come out of all of a sudden?_

"I wouldn't want to li……."

He stopped short. Even in the dark he could see that roughly 15 feet ahead of them, lying bent over in the dirt, was a body.

"Looks like someone took the first shot" Bernard whispered.

"Shit" Peter responded, "Who is it?"

* * *

Matthew O'Brien was running, he was running as fast as he could and for good reason. He was being chased through the forest be an unknown attacker. He couldn't see the predator that stalked him, but he knew that it was very, very close and it was getting closer. His heart raced faster than he had ever felt it go, as if it were going to burst straight out of his chest and keep going. Sweat escaped from his skin and that was a mean feat for Matthew. _How is this person keeping up with me? I'm the fastest person in class!_

Jumping over a fallen tree and dodging to his left to evade another, he hoped that he might be able to out manoeuvre his attacker. He could hear the sound of muddy footsteps on dead leaves, closer still. Spinning again to his left, he had almost done a 180, and was going in nearly the direction he ran from. Raising speed and ducking under some low lying branches, the footsteps behind suddenly stopped. _I've lost them. _

He carried on running for another full 30 seconds, reaching a large tree he slowed down and slumped against its trunk. His breathing slowly returned to normal, his heart rate stayed the same.

_Its ok, it's ok. Calm down. You've lost whoever it was. You're safe._

Out of the corner of his eye he saw something, someone, but who? He got up to run but his legs felt like lead. Again he tried no use. Flight didn't work; the only thing left to do was fight. Back now against the tree, Matthew mentally prepared for the fight. He felt totally lost and at odds with what he was doing, he was never one to start a fight but now he had no choice. Flight of fight; how he wished he could choose the former. _Who else could run that fast, it was near impossible! _He waited to find out who his relentless pursuer was, a moment or so passed, the only sound being the trees and what sounded like frogs in the distance. The place seemed horribly foreign to Matthew, the cameras still watched. From directly in front of him, the bushes parted and the predator stepped out. _No, that's impossible!_

He heard someone shout his name in the distance.

"Matthew!"

Maybe one of his friends saw him and was trying to war him. Please let them get to me before whoever this is does! He tried to shout for help but he felt as though he was being suffocated, like his lungs were filled with water. The attacker inched closer casually, seemingly aware that his prey was helpless.

"Matthew" The voice seemed much closer now. He felt like he was beginning to shake uncontrollably, maybe out of fear.

"Matthew? Matthew, wake the fuck up!"

"huh?"

"Wake up!" He snapped out of his nightmare immediately. He opened his eyes to a welcoming if unexpected sight, in the dark he could see Bernard Turner and Peter Harvey kneeling over him. He couldn't have wished for better company to wake to in this game, his teammates, his friends.

"Jesus Matthew! What the fuck you at lying there!" Bernard and Peter stared down at him, looking very confused.

"You seriously just fell to sleep?... There?" Bernard asked, not understanding how his friend had ended up lying in the mud in the middle of a game of death.

"Umm, well yea, I guess", Peter and Bernard glanced at each other. Had their friend gone mad? "I don't really remember what happened, I must have tripped and hit my head" the memory came flooding back of collapsing from the emotional wieght, he hadn't hit his head, he had cried himself to sleep. Better not to tell them that.

"Whatever, lets just get moving," Peter said as he helped Matthew to his feet. "god knows who's knocking about here with an Uzi or something."

Three of them now, good. Numbers are good in this game, numbers are what counts, and three football plays are good numbers. Bernard couldn't help but smile at how fortunate they were to have found each other. Pete was right with what he said. They all knew it, there was no need to say things like that these days. Everyone knows what happens in Battle Royale, all it takes is one person to be willing to play and that was it, another class dead. Noone ever beat the system, there was never more than one winner, if not, then there was none. That was the way these things were these days, the people in power were very good at what they did. He felt his heart drop at the thought though he had known it all along. Atleast he'd go out with his friends, at least they'd have a say in the proceedings. He wondered if this is what everyone thought like in these situations, if everyone who had ever been in this sick game had thought, fought and died with the same attitude? Ah fuck it, take your mind off the situation

"You _seriously_ just fell asleep? After getting out?" he whispered to Matthew

Matthew nodded back.

"Fuck man, you're a braver person than me."


	5. Hour 2 45 Students Remaining

**Hour 2**

**45 Contestants remaining**

For over an hour now Heather Cross A.k.a Girl # 11 had sat in the shadow. Her pale face would have resembled the moon had tears not been running down her cheeks. She sat, hugging her knees, back to a tree, trying to make herself as small as possible. She had lost her glasses straight after coming out of building, something she had never done before in her life.

_Why now? How could I have been so goddamn careless? Should I go back and look? Who am I trying to kid? I wouldn't even begin to know the way back. Get a grasp._

With the little control she now had over herself, Heather pulled herself up, grasping the bark of the tree as she went in order to keep her place. She knew she didn't have much of a chance, but anything is better than sitting in the dark, getting your ass wet and waiting for death. She knew she had to move.

_But where? And how? Think!_

Deciding that she had no other options but to make the decision randomly due to lack of sight, Heather began in a direction. She could barely see without her glasses during the day and at night she was as good as blind.

_As good as blind is as good as dead._

Pushing the realisation out of her mind she fumbled forward, grasping on to any tree or low lying branch she could get a hold of. The dark was something that scared Heather, never more so than now, adrenaline the only thing keeping her going. Her body ached from how much she shook. Terrified, she pushed forward, stumbling and fumbling through the heavy undergrowth._God this is unfair. _Another branch slapped into her cheek. No blood emerged but it was enough to cause her let out another whimper. Pushing on still further, she hoped to find help. Heather wasn't the most popular person in class, keeping predominantly to herself, but that wasn't through any unwillingness to make friends, she just didn't have the confidence. She wasn't an unfriendly person by any stretch, just not knowing what to say to people in a given situation put to much strain on her, it was so stressful! How can these people all interact so...freely? Without worry of how they might be perceived? It was a question that Heather wondered throught her social life.

_I'm not an unfriendly, surely people can see that. They'll accept that I'm another person just trying to find their way off of the island; they won't consider me a thr_

Heather had the build of a mouse. She was a tiny 5', the smallest girl in class and also quietist. Her mind often ran blank when trying to remember the last person she talked with in school. She had spent the vast majority of her time studying and studying more. Her hair was nearly a pure white, as was her face; she resembled an albino porcelain doll. Her white face was however betrayed by her bright red lips and deep brown eyes that seemed slightly exaggerated when she wore her glasses, which was all of the time, except now.

_If only I had friends, I could contact them, team up with them, we could do something together. Instead of this, nothing is worse than this, being alone in the dark, blind as a bat and carrying a ridiculously heavy rucksack…_

For the first time in the game, her mind turned to her weapon. Without hesitation, she swung her back off of her shoulder and began fumbling for her weapon. A weapon is the only thing that can give distinct advantages to those how don't naturally have them in this game, and Heather knew it. Reaching into her bag she found the bulkiest thing she could grab and pulled it out of her bag. Trying hard to focus her eyes in the dark she could make out the basic shape of the object. She ran a hand down it's wooden body and her finger found the trigger. Holding it the way it should be, she used her other hands to discover exactly what kind of weapon it was that she was bearing.

_A crossbow? I have a crossbow? Well at least it's simple to use._

In order to make sure that it was loaded, she stood with her back to the nearest tree, pulled it up to her shoulder and fired. The sound of a something whizzing through the air and of bark splitting let hew know that her weapon was battle ready. Her heart felt heavy at the thought of having to use such a thing.. on someone. It tore at her and she considered dropping it as to be perceived as less of a threat. No. That would be stupidity. This is one of the best weapons someone could get, surely. It would be insanity to give it up, to simply drop it for the next pyscho to pick it up. A shiver ran down her spine. _Pyscho._ Who would they be? Who in the class would be willing to slaughter the rest? Though she hadn't made any friends at school she had been a keen observer of people and social cliques, and there was very few people she could imagine who would be willing to turn on the rest, but then again, in these things it didn't take many, no. It took one person to start it off, then panic would evelop them all. It took just one. Yea Heather, definately a bad idea to drop your weapon. Definately a bad idea.

After several minutes, or what seemed like several hours of blindly moving through the trees and under growth, she stopped.

_Surely this is not a hallucination this early on?_

With slow, but sure steps, Heather started moving towards the light. She couldn't make out what it was or why it was there but she knew that the only chance she had was with some kind of visibility and right now she had none. The only danger was that other people may have the same plan. Others, who had more visibility and willingness to kill. She decided that the only thing to do was to creep slowly and stealthily towards the light, and wait to see if she could make out any movement ahead of her.

* * *

"Ed do you hear that?" 

Putting his fingers to his lips he nodded. Crouched at the edge of the spotlight filled clearing in which they had come out Ed and Helen Campbell hadn't moved in the vain hope of the person they wanted to find them, finding them. For all they knew however, he could have been dead by now. They lay, bellies to the floor discussing what it was they should do if the worst came to the worst until they had heard that noise.

"There it is again" Helen whispered

Again putting his fingers to his lips, Ed mouthed the word "quiet" to his sister.

They lay hearing the noise of someone creeping through the tall grass around them, getting closer. It was surely someone stalking them, why else would they be coming towards them so quietly? If they meant no harm then they would have identified themselves. Ed fought to control his breathing and braced himself, they were very close now.

All so soon it was upon them, whoever it was had stumbled into Helen and had kicked her in the side. She let out a scream and shouted for her brother. Thinking his sister had been hit with something much more deadly Ed fumbled around himself, searching for his Desert Eagle Pistol that he had been given. Upon finding it he pointed in the vague direction of the attacker and let off three shots.

Dropping to the ground on her knees, Heather Cross was in absolute shock, she was being attacked by something that hid in the grass and she had literally felt the air of the bullets as they all fired ever so slightly wide of her left hand side. Regrouping, she put her finger through so that she was ready to pull the trigger. Taking an extra second to compose herself she heard her attackers speak.

"Where is he? Where did he go?" Ed shouted, his ears still ringing from the shots. "Are you alright? Helen… Are you okay?"

"Yea, I'm fine, they just kicked…."

God, it's Ed and Helen. Deans probably around here too, they must be hunting together. She knew she couldn't take one of them never mind one. She knew sh had to get out of there or she was done. Standing up Heather adjusted her crossbow into a workable position, aiming towards the voices she let off a shot. Feeling the burn in his right bicep Ed dropped the gun. He looked down to see the arrow burried deep into his arm, the pain coursed up and down his right hand side. Trying to pull it out would be usless, he could feel the barbs nestling into his muscle, everytime he tensed or moved his arm they tightened more, lodging in too him. He looked up to see a pale figure pulling itself to a standing position, who was it.

"He hit me! He fucking hit me with an arrow!"

Sitting up, Ed picked up the gun and tossed it to Helen then closed his eyes with the pain and hoped. The weapon landed a foot away from her and though she heard it drop she couldn't find it.

"Shoot Helen, shoot him!" Ed shouted through the tears

"I'm trying Ed, believe me, I'm fucking trying!"

Searching the ground for the gun Helen decided, was only going to get her killed. Pushing herself to her feet, she sought the direction of her attacker. After a second of stumbling around she found her bearings and turned towards Ed in time to make out who she could tell was Heather Cross holding a crossbow to the back of his head.

"Ed! No!"

Hearing his sister shout out caused him to duck in sheer panic rather than informed reaction. In a moment of sheer adrenaline he spun round where he sat as to face Heather, then in the same movement rolled onto his back and kicked out with his two legs. Both connected with the weapon she had pointed at him. The force pushed Heather back a few steps, dazed and confused Heather fired off a shot in front of her in a vain effort to hit one of her attackers. The missile fired passed Ed's head. In shock at his near miss he launched himself of off the ground at Heather, knocking her to the ground and causing her to drop her weapon.

On top of her now Ed let out with a volley of punches with his weaker left hand to her face. The pain of the blows to her face caused Heather to scream and scream loud. Slightly knocked back by the noise level Ed eased off a bit. Realising that it was a girl he was hitting and an incredibly frail one at that, Ed slumped off the girl on to the wet grass. Dumbfounded by her luck, Heather grasped the crossbow which lay beside her, weighing up her options as she stood up Heather decided on flight over fight. As she tasted the blood that had started dripping into her mouth from the volley of blows she turned her back on the light in which she was so keen to get to earlier and then ran as hard as she ever had in her life.

"Fuck, my arm. It's got a fucking arrow in it! I'm actually shot in the arm. Little Bitch. Did you see her? It was Heather Cross, _little _Heather Cross."

Turning towards his sister for a response Ed got a shock.

"Ed, I'm hit" Helen panted for breath through the pain, "I'm hit." The arrow in her stomach confirmed her estimate.

"_Fuck _Helen…. Oh shit. When did she?… _Fuck_… oh god" He crawled over to his sister hoping his eyes were deceiving him and that when he got a better inspection it wouldn't be _that _bad. He sat down next to her and tried to access the damage.

"Lie back"

"I can't it hurts. Whenever I move it hurts. Whenever I talk it hurts. It just_, really _fucking hurts." The arrow had embedded itself deep into her stomach making it near impossible to pull it out. Little more than a few inches protuded out of her. She tried to lie back again and the pain swept through her as though she was ripping herself open by unfolding her body, she sat there bent over, unable to move.

"Ed…Ed, it really hurts. It really hurts."

Not knowing what to do and hoping that his sister wasn't telling him to do something that he didn't want to do, Ed burst into tears.

"Christ Hel, I don't know what to do. What do you want me to do? Can you walk, please tell me you can walk. Even if it's slow it doesn't matter, we have a gun, I can protect you until we find Dean. He'll know what to do… he always does. Let's just find him okay…? Can we just do that?"

"Ed, I don't think I can move."

"You _can_ move, I'll help you" The desperation in his voice was overwhelming, Helen didn't want to hear this. She didn't need to hear this.

"Ed for fucksake I'm shot, I'm shot and I can't move. Now just stay with me and be calm or leave, I need help but I'm not lying when I say I absolutely _cannot _move."

He moved so that her head was resting in his lap, knowing that this may be the last time that he spoke to his sister he tried to pick his words carefully.

"Okay, okay Hel, I'll stay. We can wait here for Dean. It'll be fine."

* * *

Maggie Guest A.k.a Girl # 15 was herself a relatively well liked girl. Most people in class had, at some stage been helped out by Maggie. She offered advice and was a very strong personality and decision maker whenever it came down to it, and now was the time when she needed to be it the most. Maggie was a slightly tall girl, at 5' 10, she had brown hair and big brown eyes. A very attractive girl who's beauty was only matched by her formidable intelligence. She was highly sought after girl but was renowned for having not giving boys a chance. That was until she met Michael Doherty A.k.a Boy # 14. Her boyfriend for the past year, and someone she knew she would dearly miss however this game ended. She had to find him. 

Working a path through the forest, Maggie had a distinct advantage ahead of a lot of people in the game, if only she could figure out how to work it: GPS. A device that, according to its booklet would let her know the position of everyone and everything on the island. If only she could turn it on.

"Maggie!"

Her attention quickly turned from the machine, crouching down and into the shadow she attempted to judge the direction of the voice.

"Maggie, for god sakes it me! Helena!"

"Prove it"

A hard object hit Maggie on her shin.

"Oow, what the hell was that?"

"Sorry, that's my crowbar… to prove you can trust me"

"How did you know that you can trust me?"

"I figured I could take you if needs be"

"Charming"

Both girls let out the first laugh they heard in a while. She could see Helena now, she was sitting against a fallen tree and looked as though she been out in the wild for no more than a few minutes. She got up and walked over to Maggie, picking up her crowbar and gave her a huge hug. The two had always liked each other, they hadn't always been best of friends but they had always gotton on and had a mutual respect for each other. Maggie had always been outspoken and confident, the head of the debate team and few girls dared cross her, if anyone ever bitched about her then she had no qualms about taking them up about it in the middle of the canteen or anywhere for all to see and if you couldn't back up your claims then she was sure as hell gonna make you look like an idiot. Though Helena was nowhere near as outspoken she had a genuiness about her that Maggie liked, there was no pretense, if she didn't like you she would simply tell you and not speak to you anymore. Honesty was a commodity at Prince Community School Maggie knew.

"Have you seen anyone…? Other than me?"

"No, and I wouldn't have noticed even if someone had jumped in front of me. I've been so busy trying to get _this _thing working" Maggie replied giving GPS a smack. She held it out and Helena took the device and began examining it as they walked side by side.

"It sure is a beautiful night"

Not taking her eyes off of the device Helena replied, "Tell me about it, we've had gunshots _and_ a grenade explosion. It's been wonderful."

The thought of one of their friends; Jack being killed caused an eerie silence. Jack was alive no more than about 4 hours ago and it suprised Helena that Maggie could talk about it in such a matter-of-fact way, Maggie, she knew was good friends with Jack.

"It was his birthday in a few weeks" Helena said, still trying to fix the GPS "Are you ok? You were good friends with hi-"

"There's no point in thinking about that now" Maggie snapped. Helena stopped her work on the GPS and turned to Maggie, shocked at her insensitive response. "There's no point in thinking about this now because it's only the beginning"

These were words that Helena didn't want to hear. No one on the island would want to hear them Maggie knew, but they had to be said.

"41 of us came to this island and as far we know there's 40 left. And if 39 of us don't die before 3 days is up we all die. That is the situation we are in. Friends that we have known for years and years, people we _thought _we knew will kill. They might even try to kill us. Now, I knew Jack well, we didn't always get on but he was a good guy and didn't deserve what he got… But that's the thing, none of us do. No one on the planet should go through what we are about to go through but that won't stop it happening, that won't make it better. And distracting yourself about someone who died when there's plenty more death to come is irresponsible to you and me. I need you to be strong and with me, if we are gonna stay alive as long as possible then we have to be together, we have to _work _together… otherwise… otherwise we have no chance."

"Yea… I know" Helena spoke weakly, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Oh and I figured out what was wrong with your GPS"

"Oh yea?"

"Yea, pass me your bag." Maggie knelt down and through the pack off her back and onto the floor, Helena bent down and started searching in it. Eventually she found what she was looking for and walked over to a fallen tree and sat on it.

"What was wrong?"

"Here" She handed it to Maggie. "You forgot to put the batteries in." Her head again found her hands as again the reality of the situation shook her in another wave. She fought the urge to give in. Keep talking, keep talking and don't think about it.

"Is there anyone in particular your looking for Maggie?"

"Michael, god that boys an ass but I'd kick his ass if he got killed."

"You never know he might find a friend, maybe Pete or Bernard, he gets on with them doesn't he? As long as he avoids someone like Derek or something he should be fine. If anyones gonna start this it'll be Derek"

"He's way away from Derek according to this. Although I feel sorry for Richard."

"Why?"

"He's the closest person to Derek"

* * *

Richard Heaney A.k.a boy # 5 felt a strange wave of excitement come over him. He had been examining it for a few minutes now and for reasons unbeknownst to him he got a small thrill from looking at it. After all, this used to be someone he hated, someone he despised, and now all that was left was a pair of legs and a hell of a lot of bloody debris. Maybe he had developed some sort of secret blood lust but he had always imagined that he would be pretty squeamish when it came to these things. However this wasn't making him feel squeamish at all, on the contrary, this was giving him a buzz. 

As he kicked the pair of legs that once belonged to Jack the memories of being excluded and ignored passed through his mind. Maybe it wasn't down to him, but Jack embodied everything that Richard could never be; funny, popular, and friendly. Jack was the kind of guy that brimmed with confidence and everything he did came with a smile that to Richard read: "I barely do anything right, but people love me for it, isn't the world great?"

Richard couldn't help but smirk.

_Look where your confidence in your own stupidity has got you now. Oh it looked ssooo brave in front of all the girls that are so easily impressed but where are you know? You're nothing but a pair of legs on the wet leaves. _

For some reason Richard hoped that Jack parents were watching.

_You fucking deserved this; this is the real world,__ you did it to yo…_

A noise behind him brought him back to reality. Spinning round, he saw one of the last people he wanted to see. A sudden bolt of fear hit him in the back of the head and the urge to run was unbearable though he knew it would do him no good, no. He knew he had to be smart about this.

"Derek… hey, barely heard you sneak up on me like that." It was all he could think to say, Derek was now noomore than a couple of metres away from him and he seemed to be walking with a purpose, this was the last place that Richard wanted to be but he knew he had to play it cool, he stood no chance of fighting or out running Derek and his weapon was absoloutbly no good to him and he had dropped it several minutes ago. God the people who organise this can be so cruel, a bible? What good would that do anyone? Their idea of irony, of humor? This is _lives _they're playing with.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you"

To Richard, Derek's words didn't seem sincere, infact they made his blood run cold. "Oh, no problem. You… Are you by yourself?"

Derek walked slowly closer as he spoke, Richard froze to his spot. "Yea… all alone. I haven't seen anyone since I left the building. Not one person… until I found you."

"Aahh well, it's probably a big island, like…like the last one…on TV. Did you erm...did you see it?" Richard tried to seem as friendly and comfortable with the situation as possible. It wasn't working, he could feel the sweat teaming out of his body. If anyone was going to play the game here it was Derek.

"No, but I heard about it."

"Good, then listen, the only way we can get far in this game is if, you know, stick together. It doubles our chances, in the last one the only people who were left were people who had been in a group, it happens every time, if we work as a team we can go till the end."

"So, what you're saying is that we should team up? Until when? What happens when it's only us two left? What do we do then Richard?" The words shook Richard though he knew that if he could convince Derek, he was in for at least a fighting chance of getting him whilst his back was turned. The hard part however was getting Derek to turn his back.

"Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, but for now, it's only common sense… don't… don't you think?"

The desperation was showing clearly in Richards's voice. Derek eyes burned a hole in him; the night vision goggles perched on top of his head only made him look less human. Night Vision goggles? Shit. Derek had probably been following him.

"I suppose your right"

"You do?" Shock and relief came to Richard in equal measure.

"Sure, you say you've seen it on TV so you probably know a lot more than me about how to survive. I could use you; we could make a good team."

"You're right… you're absolutely right!" Dumbfounded by his luck, Richard felt invincible. He had managed to fool in all probability the most dangerous person on the island.

_Perfect Richard._

"So then, which way are we headed?"

"Well I was gonna head south, I think that's where the girls said they were going and they seem more level headed than most. Maybe they can think of something… We can help. We might be able to find a way off with them."

"Perfect… South it is." Derek walked ahead, turning his back on Richard.

Following, Richard searched the ground for a some kind of weapon, _anything_, anything hard enough to incapacitate him in one blow. A rock, a stone, he wished he hadn't been so hasty has to throw away the bible.Then a strange thought crossed his mind, something he hadn't even considered since he met Derek; _maybe_ he didn't have to do this. Derek hadn't showed any kind of aggression to him, he hadn't done anything to show him that he meant him any harm. He thought hard about his options, knowing that the wrong decision could mean his life. He knew he wasn't the strongest or the most popular person in the class and he stood no chance against a team or bigger opponent, especially without a weapon. Looking at his situation now he knew he realised that for now he had possibly the strongest contestant here, on _his _side. Was there any need to waste this? It would be stupidity to. No, Richard decided, as long they were loyal to each other then they could go far together, surely even an thug like Derek would realise, it was to good a chance to pass up and it was unlikly he would be able to take Derek anyway in a straight fight. Stay loyal. Stay loyal for as long as it takes. And if Derek dosn't? That was a risk Richard had no option but to take.


End file.
